


I'm sorry, John.

by JustTheStoryteller



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustTheStoryteller/pseuds/JustTheStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock jumps from the astronomy tower, John tries to cope. But how will he react when sherlock comes back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The ride on the Hogwarts Express was deathly quiet. John Watson spent the entire trip steeling himself for a year at Hogwarts, a year that would be completely different from the past four. He never realized how few friend he had aside from Sherlock, but now that he was gone, he was left with only Greg, Molly, Harry, Ron, and Hermoine. Well, not counting the attempts he had made at girlfriends (one night stands). They called him 'three house Watson' for a reason. He sighed, it was going to be a long year.

John had heard a rumour of beings called thestrals, the invisible creatures that pulled the carriages to Hogwarts, they only could be seen after one has seen death. Well, John thought, I guess we'll see if that nutter Looney Lovegood was right.

_A shape could barely be discerned from the dark stones outlining the astronomy tower. An otter patronus spoke to him, Sherlock's patronus. "Goodbye, John," it had said. Those were his last words. Sherlock had summoned John's wand, at the beginning of their conversation, and john later realized that this was to prevent him from casting a levitation charm. He screamed when Sherlock jumped, he screamed the entirety of the time Sherlock was in the air. When Sherlock hit, John felt the air knocked from his lungs, as if he had been dropped from the top if a five story building as well. He stumbled forward, the world had gone on mute, tripping and drawing blood, bit he did not care. He finally made it to the body of his best friend, dark curls were splayed across the stone walkway, blood spattered across his pale face. "Oh, Sherlock, no," he mumbled, and was pulled away by his friends._

John gasped. He was soaked to the bone in sweat, and suddenly glad he hadn't changed into his gryffindor robes yet. Shakes gripped his body, and silent sobs racked his body. He managed to pull himself together after who knows how long, and slid the screen down to change into his robes.

The feast was miserable, the obscene cheerfulness of his gryffindor friends only made matters worse. Looney Lovegood was wrong, it seemed, no mysterious beasts revealed themselves to him. He retreated to the Gryffindor common room as quickly as he could, ignoring the consoling looks the paintings gave him. Every step was torture, everywhere he looked reminded him if Sherlock, the windows they sat by to study, the spot John tripped and spilled his inkwell, the statue they hid behind to evade Mr Filch, there wasn't anywhere he could escape from Sherlock. The fat lady kept him from entering the common room until he told her how he was doing, how he'd been holding up, and listened to the reminder that every painting in the castle wishes to give him their condolences. He thanked her and stepped stiffly into the common room.

The gryffindor common room was uncharacteristically quiet with out Sherlock, despite his being in ravenclaw. John Watson lay back on his scarlet bed, his blond hair contrasting brilliantly with the dark red. _Similar to the color of Sherlock's blood_ , he thought grimly. _Stop it, stop it now_ , he thought angrily to himself. Sherlock was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. His thoughts were interrupted by Harry, Ron, and Greg bursting through the door. "Hey there Johnny," they greeted him, not knowing how to act around someone who had a price of them torn out. The soon became caught up in their own conversation and forgot about John. He drew the curtains closed around him, cast a silencing charm, and cried himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The grounds were covered in snow, and the air was crisp and fresh. John went through the motion of his classes like an automaton. He had dropped out of astronomy, for obvious reasons, and instead had taken up divination. Although professor Trelawney seemed crazy, he took comfort in her goings-on, although somedays he could swear that she was purposely imitating Sherlock to mock him.

Just one week left until his friends left him for holiday. Greg was visiting his family in the country, Hermione was taking a vacation to Italy, and Harry was joining Ron at the Burrow. John was alone. _Sherlock motioned_   _to him, calling him to join him at the Ravenclaw table, goin as far as to begin shifting his bags to give John room_. John shook his head, clearing his head the painful memories. He sat instead at the gryffindor table, accompanied by his companions. He didn't taste his food, it reminded him of how little Sherlock ate. He returned to the common room and tried to study for an upcoming quiz, but all the while he could hear Sherlock critiquing his work. "John? You ready for quiddich practice?" Harry called. John sighed, and grabbed his fire bolt and heading out the door.

Flying through the air was the only way John had managed to clear his head. So far, at least. On occasion he could see Sherlock flying gracefully after the golden snitch on his Nimbus 2001. They had a match the next day, so John tried to focus on the task ahead of him, guard the goal posts.

The next day, the gryffindor team headed out onto the field. After ten minutes or so, the score was 150-200, hufflepuff was in the lead. Harry had flown high into the clouds, and fell with a sickening crunch. _Sherlock_ , he thought with horror, before realizing that this dark haired boy was not the same boy that had jumped the previous year, this boy was not his best friend.

The team headed to the hospital wing to greet Harry when he awoke. As John pushed through the throng of students, he couldn't help but think of Sherlock, and the countless times he had been unwillingly admitted to the hospital wing, but  
most vividly he remembered the last time. _He's my friend, let me through_ , John muttered grimly.

_"He's my friend! Let me through!" John cried, forcing the crowd of students aside. "He's my friend!" John shrieked, the students moved aside and looked at him compassionately. They all knew of the inseparable duo that was Sherlock and John, they had been quite the legacy; almost as popular as Harry Potter himself."He's my friend," John's cries grew quieter with each step he took into the hospital wing. John pushed his way to the gurney Sherlock had been set on in the hospital wing, and with his eyes filled with tears, looked down at his best friend. "Oh, Sherlock," he muttered before collapsing on the side of the gurney. He sobbed heavily, not caring that he was in full view of the other students. Tears streamed down his face, and his body shook. Blindly, he grasped for something, anything, and managed to grab onto the hem of Sherlock's blue ravenclaw scarf. An unknown person removed the scarf from his friend and handed it to him. When he held that soft fabric in his hands he broke down again, unable to cope with the fact that his best friend was gone forever._

The quiddich team gathered around Harry, wishing him an easy recovery. They took their leave early, knowing very well how grumpy Harry got when he was injured.

John entered the boys dormitory to change and maybe take a quick nap, so he went about doing just that. He showered quickly, changed into a warm jumper, and drew the curtains around his bed. Out of habit, he cast a silencing charm before he crawled beneath the scarlet and gold covers.

John awoke to find that he had a slept through potions. _Oh, sod it,_ he thought and rolled out of bed. He pulled out his books and turned to the page they would be working on and studied for the remainder of the class period.

 

The next day, everyone left for their holidays. John was utterly alone in the large castle. After the Christmas feast held for the students that were leaving, John retired early to his dormitory.

Christmas morning, John was surprised to see presents wrapped under the Christmas tree. He didn't know who would bother giving him a gift, he was always so glum that most other students avoided him. He set about unwrapping the gifts. First was a new satchel fom Greg and Molly, then a new inkwell and quill from hermione, Harry and Ron had splurged and gotten him a jumper "to replace the one from mrs Weasley". There was an unmarked present tucked in the corner, he pulled it over, noticing how large and soft it was. The card read ' _ **John,  
I know that this year will be hard for you. Sherlock left this in my possession and I think it would be best if it was given to you.  
Merry Christmas,  
Professor Martha Hudson'**_  
He looked nervously at the wrapped parcel in his lap. Taking a deep breath, he slowly ripped open the package. Tears filled his eyes at the sight of the large bellstaff coat Sherlock always wore. He tore it out of the wrapping, and wrapped it around himself. The coat was large, it swathed him like a child's blanket. It smelled like Sherlock, and when John slipped arms into the sleeves he found a slip of paper tucked into the deep pocket. What he found tore his heart to pieces. He pulled the coat tighter around him, clutching desperately to a wrinkled photograph of himself. He wiped his nose on his hand, and tried to calm his breathing. It was then that he saw the writing on the back of the small photograph. In Sherlock's messily neat scrawl was the word: _John_. John curled into a ball and cried anew.


	3. Chapter 3

The end of the year was drawing closer. John didn't worry about the exams or OWLS, they didn't matter anymore. John sat in the boys dormitory, the last one to pack. He dug into his trunk and refolded his clothes.

After a few moments, he reached into the trunk and tears filled his eyes. A dark blue ravenclaw scarf lay wadded in John's hand. He clutched it to his chest and cried into it. His breaths shook and the sobs caught in his throat. Somehow, he managed to cast a silencing spell so nobody would hear him. With the knowledge that he could be as loud as he wished, he howled. John screamed his misery to the entire Hogwarts grounds. "Sherlock," he murmured. "Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock,". Over and over like a chant. "Come back to me, please Sherlock," a curtain rustled, but nothing else moved.

Angrily John threw the scarf into the bottom of his trunk along with the bellstaff coat. He then piled jumper after jumper on top of it, burying his feelings. He finished packing and solemnly strode down the hallway and outside.

John went to the large tree by he edge of the lake. There was a tombstone there. _Here lies Mr. Sherlock Holmes._ John sank to his knees, remembering how much Sherlock hated the formality of the word mister.

" _Honestly John, mister?" Sherlock whined as he threw his letter at John."it makes me sound like an old man." "Well you better get over it, mister," John replied teasingly._

Today was the anniversary of Sherlock's funeral. The anniversary of the day that the last whole piece of John's heart was broken, smashed, destroyed.

" _I was so alone, and I owe you so much," John had said, his voice choking up. "Just one more thing, just-just one more thing, for me, Sherlock, just- don't be dead," his voice caught on the last word. He walked away stiffly, vowing to return every year to say hello._

"Goodbye, old friend," John said, standing, "I'll see you next year." He sighed halfheartedly.

As John walked away, he could have sworn that he heard a faint voice calling, "until then, John."

**Author's Note:**

> I have the first six chapters written, and will upload them periodically.


End file.
